


leave me high and dry

by bodhirookes



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Car Sex, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, I'm really sorry, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Masturbation, Public Sex, Voyeurism, basically Ryan is a little shit, but it's okay because Shane brought it upon himself, this is embarrassing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 19:07:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17648261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bodhirookes/pseuds/bodhirookes
Summary: He can’t believe he’s hearing this come out of Shane’s mouth. He says as much out loud. “I can’t believe this. You think I’m a wimp? Even throughout all of the demon encounters and my rippling muscles?”Shane snorts loudly. “Ryan, I love your muscles. But they don’t make you brave if you aren’t willing to do daring things, like bungee jumping or skydiving.”“But I’d punch the fuck out of someone if they ever tried to hurt you. That’s brave, right?”His boyfriend’s face softens, and he risks letting go of the wheel with one hand to give Ryan’s left bicep a nice, hard squeeze. “That’s real chivalrous of you, Hercules, but I was talking about being adventurously brave, not adrenaline-fueled brave.”Or,shockingly, Ryan and Shane's sex life gets an upgrade because of a silly little argument they have one night in the car.





	leave me high and dry

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone??? I, uh, really don’t have any excuses for this ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ I haven’t written Shyan in a hot second because I’ve been really discouraged by all of the drama on Tumblr with antis, but now that I’ve distanced myself from Tumblr and BFU for a little bit for mental health reasons, I’m back, baby!!!! I’m going to stay not very active on Tumblr probably because it’s kind of a cesspool at this point, but I’ll still go on there for challenges, to check my messages, and to rb BFU content from the people I follow and trust!! So if anyone wants to talk to me on there, I promise that I still check it every day!! And if you don’t follow me on Tumblr and you have any interest in doing so, my Tumblr url is the same as my name on here!! If you reblog lots of BFU content and you’re not mean to ppl in the fandom, I’ll most definitely follow you back!! 
> 
> Small disclaimer: This is the first time I’ve ever written such an in-depth and actual, full sex scene, with detailed foreplay, preparing, and sexy timez in succession, so I hope I did okay! I’ve always been really nervous about trying to write sex scenes for myself but there was something about this fic that made it really easy for me to just knock it all out, so here 11k of me being gross! I guess this means I’m good to go for future sexy times in fics fjdfksal
> 
> I’d like to apologize to not only Shane Madej, but Target as well. My sincerest apologies. 
> 
> All mistakes are my own! Title comes from Ride by Lana Del rey aka my mom ♡

Just like every other wild, spontaneous, and mildly dangerous situation they get themselves into, this one starts with an argument.

They’re in the car and on the way home from a day spent in San Diego. The entire trunk is filled with things they bought, and by some fucking miracle, Shane is the one driving. A fair trade-off, seeing as how Ryan was the one who white-knuckle drove them to San Diego at 8 A.M., when everyone was rushing to get to work and driving like a pack of assholes.

The argument starts when they pass by a building that has a few guys suspended outside of it so that they can clean the windows. Ryan points them out to Shane, who barely spares them a glance because he’s too busy flipping off some douchebag in a Porsche.

“I could never do that, dude,” Ryan tells him as the building and the window washers slide out of sight. “You couldn’t _pay_ me enough to scale the side of a twenty story building and wash the windows.”

Shane laughs a little. “Are you serious?”

“What?”

Shane glances over at him, eyebrows high on his forehead, and then goes right back to the road. “You, Ryan Steven Bergara, are telling me, Shane Alexander Madej, that you will go to places like Eastern State Penitentiary, a haunted doll island in the middle of Mexico City, and even a large expanse of woods to hunt for Bigfoot in the middle of the night, all for a paycheck, but you would never sit on a ledge and wash some windows?”

Well, when he puts it like that. “That’s different.”

“Oh, do tell.”

“There’s a much smaller chance of us dying while we’re on site than if we were suspended above a twenty story drop by some fuckin’ rope and a little metal platform. That’s not even a comparison, Madej. Ghosts don’t usually try to hurt us, and demons only get one chance a season, so I’d say that equates out to around six to nine times a year, depending on how many episodes there are where we go to the actual location for _Supernatural_. Washing windows is every day, man. That’s at least two hundred days a year, not counting holidays or weekends.”

There’s a moment of silence, where Shane stares at the road in slight awe and then also changes lanes so that he won’t get stuck behind a minivan. And then he says, “You thought about this before, then?”

“Duh.”

“Maybe we need to consider adding another segment to the show titled _Buzzfeed Unsolved: Random Inane Facts Ryan Bergara Knows But Probably Shouldn’t_ so you can have a creative outlet for all of those little nuggets of info you’ve got cooped up in your head. Holding onto all of those facts about unlikely deaths is probably bad for your health, Ryan.”

Ryan doesn’t really have a good comeback for that, so he goes with muttering: “You’re probably bad for my health,” under his breath and pouting out of the window.

Shane laughs and lets him stew for a few minutes. When they finally make it out of the city limits of San Diego and are on the freeway, he looks over at Ryan again with no little amount of fondness on his face. Ryan pretends it doesn’t make his heart melt down into his feet.

“So, does that mean you’d never go bungee jumping?”

Ryan’s spine brittles up just thinking about it. “Of course not. Are you fucking kidding me? I’d die!”

“It looks like fun!”

“You are the absolute last person on Earth, in all of her beautifully not-flat, green and blue glory who should be trying to bungee jump.” He can see it now: Shane propelling towards the ground with his limbs going in every direction possible like a fucking cartoon character. “You’d jump from the platform and the second you hit the end of the chord, your body would snap in half like a pencil.”

“Fuck you- I’d be a great bungee jumper.”

“You’d break like a toothpick.” Ryan reiterates. “Did you learn nothing from the D. B. Cooper episode? You’d ‘rocket to the ground and leave a plume of smoke, just like Wile E. Coyote.’”

Shane just shakes his head and tries not to laugh again, because that would mean that Ryan is right.

“Okay, so no bungee jumping. How about skydiving?”

“That’s literally just bungee jumping but with a bedsheet, and how D. B. Cooper died, dumbass. Absolutely fucking not.”

“How about that one kind of skydiving where you jump from a building or a cliff and pull your chute pretty quickly?”

“BASE jumping? That’s even worse! Then you have no time to have someone come to your rescue! And there would be people around you to watch you plummet to the ground!”

“How about cliff diving? The water kind of acts like a base to catch you after you jump.”

“It, in fact, does not, because if you jump high enough or crookedly or whatever, it’ll break every bone in your body and not even Aquaman can save you at that point.”

Shane’s face breaks out into one of his giant, crooked grins, the kind he gets whenever Ryan is being particularly disagreeable or unreasonable and it’s amusing him. “You know, you act like such a badass all the time but you’re afraid of doing anything that would actually help you to maintain that reputation.”

Ryan gapes at him. “You fucking liar- I’m not scared of doing brave things-”

“Standing in the middle of some old, dusty house and asking a ghost to tell you its name is not brave, Ryan. You’re just talking to the air. If anything, that’s the true epitome of Super Weenie Hut Jr.’s. The only episode we’ve done that you can consider yourself brave in is when we went to Yuma and you went into that fucking cave with all of those bats.”

He can’t believe he’s hearing this come out of Shane’s mouth. He says as much out loud. “I can’t believe this. You think I’m a wimp? Even throughout all of the demon encounters and my rippling muscles?”

Shane snorts loudly and almost rear-ends a Prius. “Baby, I love your muscles. But they don’t make you brave if you aren’t willing to do daring things, like bungee jumping or skydiving.”

“But I’d punch the fuck out of someone if they ever tried to hurt you. That’s brave, right?”

His boyfriend’s face softens, and he risks letting go of the wheel with one hand to give Ryan’s left bicep a nice, hard squeeze. “That’s real chivalrous of you, Hercules, but I was talking about being adventurously brave, not adrenaline-fueled brave.”

“This is a scam.” Ryan wriggles out of Shane’s hold, even though he’d love nothing more than to push into it like he usually does. “I revoke my muscle protecting privileges, since they’re obviously not being appreciated to their rightful standard.”

Shane rolls his eyes and puts his hand back on the wheel. “You’re such a drama queen. If you really wanted to make a point, you’d go cliff diving with me instead of splashing around in the shallow end or building a sandcastle whenever we go to the beach.”

“I like being safe,” Ryan sniffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “And building sandcastles. Sue me.”

There are a few beats of silence, while Ryan rolls their conversation around in his head and Shane quietly swears at the way people are driving. They go through two lane changes and five cuss words before Ryan thinks of how he wants to proceed.

“So, what would I have to do to make myself look brave in front of you? Or adventurous? Maybe something that doesn’t include flinging myself off of great heights to my untimely death.”

“It’s not gonna include you squaring up with a ghost or some asshole who took the last good watermelon at the store, either,” Shane tells him. He thinks about it for handful of seconds, and then tells Ryan: “It’s all about the comfort zone, and getting out of it. Doing something that makes your skin crawl and gets your adrenaline pumping at the same time. Doing something that makes your entire perspective flip upside down. Makes you see the world a different way.”

“Like what?” he asks, because he really doesn’t know. He still steadfastly thinks that everything Shane just listed describes ghost hunting. “You make it sound like you have to put your entire life on the line in order to be considered adventurous.”

“Well, maybe a little.” Shane sends him another crooked, amused smile. “And I mean with things that are real and flesh and blood and in front of you, like swimming with sharks or white water rafting. Those are kinda dangerous but also amazing to experience because it forces you to live on the edge a little.”

Ryan squints at him. “Are you saying that you want to try swimming with sharks?”

“I think it would be cool to experience.” Shane changes lanes again, and Ryan can’t tell if it’s because he needs to or because he wants an excuse to not look him in the eye, since Shane sometimes still gets a little twitchy about expressing his true feelings. “Life’s just really short, you know? And it could all be gone tomorrow. I’d love to go out knowing I pushed myself to my limits and did crazy, adventurous things in my life, like skydiving or swimming with sharks or climbing Mount Everest, so that I can try and see all the corners of the world before I leave it forever.”

Ryan hums. The sound of all of these so-called ‘adventurous tasks’ make his skin crawl, and he can’t believe that someone like Shane would want to do any of them. He thinks it’s kind of funny that the person in the relationship who is as tall as a tree and might float away in the wind someday wants to do all this crazy shit, and the other person with all the muscles and the erratic behavior would rather stay inside for the rest of his life than attempt to go bungee jumping.

But Ryan also understands what Shane means when he talks about seeing all of the world’s corners. He knows all too well the taste of longing, and the taste of fear, and how those two things together can either result in a lot of heartbreak or a lot of success. Maybe he doesn’t see those two in something like white water rafting, but he sees it in his job, and in his relationship with Shane, and in his unknown future. Even if he never, ever, ever wants to attempt to swim with sharks, Ryan can feel the itch that Shane is waxing poetic about under the guise of climbing Mount Everest.

There’s another stretch of silence between them, while Shane steadily heads towards Los Angeles and the day steadily bleeds into nighttime. As Ryan watches the sky go from gold to lavender to grey, he thinks about what Shane was talking about, and tries to hone in on that tickle of fear and wonderment that Ryan has carefully smothered over the years. He tries to figure out if he’s offended or not offended over the fact that Shane kind of sees Ryan as a weenie. He knows that Shane really does consider him to be brave when they’re filming for Unsolved, because he knows that Ryan is sometimes so afraid of their locations that it makes it hard for him to leave the hotel rooms they stay in, and he’s always quick to tell Ryan that he’s finished an episode before and he can finish another one. But Ryan also knows that Shane likes how reliable Ryan is, even if he’s kind of hotheaded and twitchy and impulsive sometimes in his actions and words. Whenever Shane says that Ryan is such a homebody, he says it with fondness, says it like he wants to search the corners of the world for adventures but also knows that he’ll never have to search for a place to call home again.

Ryan is someone that Shane can count on for anything, whether it’s knowing that Ryan will be a complete mess at locations, or knowing that Ryan will still be in bed when he wakes up every morning since Shane is the early riser of them both, or knowing that Ryan is going to get what he gets every time they go to Chipotle together. There is almost nothing that Shane has to guess about him now, and there is almost never a time when Shane will come home and not know what to expect from him.

The thought makes something warm settle in Ryan’s chest, because he likes being reliable, and he likes being a constant in Shane’s life. He likes being known inside and out and being accepted for all of his familiar, unchanging pieces.

But… it does kind of make him want to do something that fits under Shane’s particular brand of adventurous. Because Ryan might be reliable, but he also _lives_ to pull one over on Shane Madej.

Ryan thinks and thinks as they get closer to L.A. The darkness of the night sky and the harsh glow of the city lights against it make everything on the freeway kind of blurred, and they make Ryan’s brain wake up. It’s the same sensation he gets whenever he’s going through a new cold case for _True Crime_ , trying to put all of the pieces together into something intelligent and coherent. _Doing something that pushes you out of your comfort zone. Doing something that makes your adrenaline pump. Doing something that could maybe put your life in danger._

Ryan thinks as fast as his brain will let him, in the middle of the haze of the dark freeway and under the sound of some Spotify playlist they made together. He trying to think of something to suggest they can do together, a couples activity of sorts, that will fit Ryan’s need to be in control and Shane’s need to see his life flash before his eyes.

 _This is fucking ridiculous,_ Ryan sighs to himself. _The only adventurous things we’ve ever done together is anything with_ Unsolved _and kinky shit during sex._

His thoughts come to a halt, in a way that greatly resembles a train crash, and Ryan finds himself blinking owlishly at the side of a semi-truck. It was something he thought of out of exasperation, but once it’s on the table, the cogs in his brain try to spin off into some direction that Ryan hadn’t even imagined considering.

Kinky shit. If there’s one thing that Ryan is pretty swell at being, uh, _exploratory_ in, besides ghost hunting, it’s sex. More specifically, sex with Shane. They’ve tried a few things together, like bondage with ropes and handcuffs, lingerie, role playing, and even one stint with breathplay that Ryan’s kind of eager to repeat, but they’ve never really done anything outside of their apartment. Maybe minus the one time Shane came into work with one of the hickies Ryan left on him the night before proudly on display, which resulted in Ryan desperately backing him into a storage closet and sucking Shane’s brain out via his dick. He knows that they’ve had sex in public a few other times, but they’ve never tried to purposely have sex where they might get caught by someone else.

Ryan thinks about Shane describing his hunger to see the whole world while living precariously on the edge of it, thinks about how much he loves to prove Shane wrong, and then thinks, _Well, you know what they say: carpe diem, motherfucker._

He takes a quick survey of the freeway and all of its passengers; it’s too dark to see clearly into other peoples’ windows, but there’s enough light to see all of their outlines and proof that they’re all in their cars, driving along the same strip of road as Ryan and Shane. Ryan thinks that if he slouches down a little, no one would be able to see what he’s planning on doing, and maybe only if a truck decides to pass them and the driver looks down. The speed limit is sixty five, though, so all the driver would get is three seconds of Ryan writhing around in the passenger seat, and then they’d be gone forever.

Ryan decides it’s probably safe enough, and then decides that it shouldn’t be safe enough, if he wants to accomplish anything here. That thought is what pushes him into action, makes him move past the queasy rock in his stomach and the pounding of his heart.

He starts slow, so not to raise any suspicions. He makes a show of shifting around and trying to stretch out in his seat as much as he can, adjusting his back and pushing his legs towards the front of the car. Shane glances over at him, gaze open and easy. It makes Ryan falter, but then it makes something hot flicker at the base of his belly. He kind of can’t wait to see what Shane will do when he goes through with his idea.

“Alright, little guy?”

“Yeah,” Ryan answers, hoping that he doesn’t sound too out of breath. “Just tired of sitting.”

Shane grins. “I feel you all the way, man. I think we’ve got about thirty minutes left until we get home, though, so it’s not too long now. We’ll be there before you know it.”

Thirty minutes, huh? Plenty of time, and with some left to spare for Shane to sit in the aftermath for a little bit and take in Ryan’s new-found adventurism.

“Sweet,” Ryan sighs, and then moves so that he can wiggle out of his jacket.

He’s extremely aware of how calm and put together he sounds on the outside, and how it’s the complete opposite of how he feels on the inside. He feels like he’s maybe going to throw up, and also feels like he might already be on the way to half-hard. There’s something about the thought of Shane being able to see him and not touch him that makes Ryan’s skin tingle and his head go a little fuzzy around the edges.

After his jacket is off, Ryan proceeds to gently toe off his shoes, and while his left leg stretches out across the floor and rests against the side of the radio, he brings his right leg up onto the seat with him. He flexes his toes, rolls his ankle, and even goes as far as to massage his calf a little to make it look like his leg is all kinds of tensed up and aching. Then, because this is his car, he lifts his leg up until it’s resting across the expanse of the dashboard, and his foot is tucked nicely up against the corner of the windshield.

“Does that block your view of the road at all?” Ryan asks, perfectly innocent. He thinks he deserves a fucking award or something for staying so level-headed. “I just need to stretch out.”

He doesn’t explain why he needs to stretch out, but Shane buys the stiff leg story without blinking. “Nah, you’re good.”

Ryan thanks him and rests like that for a minute or two, letting Shane slip back into having his undivided attention on the road. He hums along to the song playing, looks out of the window, and doesn’t move his hands from their position on his lap. _This is the point of no return,_ Ryan thinks to himself, thumb pressing into the snap of his jeans. _If I continue on, there’s_ no _way I can play this off as trying to get comfortable._

The thought makes another hot, pleasant zap go through Ryan’s body, and he decides to not be a weenie for once, even if it’s only for this car ride.

Ryan plays with the button of his jeans, more to psych himself up than anything, and then he pushes it through the opening. He thinks about unzipping his jeans next, but then thinks that if he’s doing this mostly for Shane, that he should put on more of a show than just unzipping his jeans and getting right to it. So Ryan bites down on his bottom lip, maybe to be sexy and maybe to keep it from trembling, and starts to rub his hands up and down his thighs. It’s barely audible over the sound of the music, but it’s enough to catch Shane’s attention. Ryan’s chest hitches when Shane looks over and makes eye contact with him, since Ryan is already staring at him, and Shane glances down at his thighs.

“Are you okay, Ryan?” Shane asks him again, sounding a little concerned. It makes Ryan’s hammering heart slow, makes his veins fill with honey. “I can pull over and let you stretch for a little bit if your legs are really hurting you.”

“Hmmm?” Ryan acts like he’s not sure what Shane is talking about and continues to rub his hands over his thighs and up to his knees. “Oh, no, I’m fine. Just tense, you know. From being out and about all day.”

Shane nods. “Yeah, for sure. Whatever you have to do to get comfortable, just go ahead and do it.”

That was an invitation if Ryan ever heard one, and he finds himself grinning, most of his nerves finally moving to the back burner.

“Really?”

His boyfriend nods, eyes not moving from the road again. “Of course, Ry. We still have a ways to go.”

“Okay.” Ryan says, actually kind of sighs, and then he does what he’s told.

He moves his hands from his thighs up to the top of his short sleeved button up shirt and starts to unbutton it, not too fast and not too slow. Shane doesn’t even notice until Ryan’s got the last button undone and he pulls each side away to expose the smooth expanse of his torso. Ryan knows that the soft grey color of the shirt looks great with his skin tone, and knows that it looks even better in the spotty headlights and street lamps dotted along the freeway.

One second, Shane’s singing the song playing and looking over to check his blind spot, and the next he’s got his eyes glued to Ryan’s bare chest. Ryan fights every single urge to smile, and just goes about settling back in his seat, hands smoothing over his sides.

“Unbuttoning your shirt is gonna help you relax?” Shane asks, obviously trying to joke around. Ryan can practically hear the saliva gathering up in his big, sarcastic mouth. “That’s a new one.”

Ryan closes his eyes and lets his hands drift up to the place that Shane can’t stop looking at. He runs his fingers over his nipples in a way that looks like could be an accident, but also might not be an accident, which it definitely wasn’t.

“Don’t you know that that’s one of my biggest personality traits? Needing to always be shirtless? I thought our time with the Test Friends would have taught you that.”

Shane laughs, but it sounds a little choked. Ryan can’t fight the small smile that curls at the corners of his mouth. “So the rumors are true, then? That wasn’t just a bit for the fans?”

The words themselves are supposed to sound like another bit, but Ryan has known Shane long enough and knows him well enough to know the difference between Shane trying to rile him up and Shane trying to hide something. This time, it sounds like the latter, and it sounds like the thing that Shane is trying to hide is how much he wants to touch Ryan.

For maybe the first time ever, Ryan’s plan seems to be working pretty damn well.

Ryan lets some of the heat in his stomach rise to his throat, and his voice comes out a little rough when he turns to look back at Shane. He keeps his hands where they are, right above his nipples, and looks his boyfriend dead in the eye.

“A lot of the time, I’m not so sure, you know? Sometimes I like to wear a shirt, and sometimes I-” Ryan drags his hands down again and purposefully digs his thumbs into his nipples, so that they’ll start to harden. It makes the breath catch in his throat, and with Shane looking at him, there’s no playing it off as anything other than what it is. “-don’t.”

“Ryan,” Shane grits out, and then forces himself to turn back to the road. “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” Ryan asks, playing dumb still. He pinches a nipple in between his forefinger and thumb and rolls it, his breath stuttering audibly. “You told me to get comfortable.”

“I meant, like, leaning the seat back and taking a nap.” Shane tells him, obviously trying to get a grip on himself. His fingers twitch against the steering wheel when Ryan tweaks his other nipple and gasps. “Not- whatever the fuck you’re doing right now.”

“I’m getting comfortable.” Quite the opposite, actually. Ryan’s dick is pressing uncomfortably against his zipper now, and his stomach is full of hot knots, but he acts like this is a walk in the park for him. “That’s all.”

“Uhuh,” Shane says flatly. “I bet.”

Ryan hums and lets his fingers trail lightly from his chest down towards his stomach. His eyes drift shut again, and he pretends that his hands are Shane’s, pressing insistently into Ryan’s skin and dragging their way down to the front of his jeans. His left stops where his skin meets his jeans, but his right hand keeps going until it’s settled over where his dick is straining upwards. He bites down on a whimper and squeezes himself through his jeans; a car goes zooming past theirs, and Ryan is suddenly reminded of why he, technically, shouldn’t be doing this. He wonders if the person in the car saw him at all, feeling himself up, and if they saw Shane holding onto the steering wheel like it was the only thing keeping him from losing it. His dick twitches at the thought, and Ryan huffs out another gasp and pushes up into his hand.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Shane asks, much harsher this time, and Ryan peels his eyes open. Shane’s knuckles are white against the wheel, a funny mirror image of Ryan’s from this morning, and his eyes keep flickering from the road to Ryan’s hand like he can’t help it. Which, well.

Ryan grinds the heel of his hand down onto his dick and groans lowly, loving the pressure and the sickly sweet feeling of being watched. A car horn blares somewhere behind them, and Ryan knows it isn’t for him, but the idea of it being for him makes his dick twitch.

“Just taking your advice,” Ryan tells him, breathless. “You’re always pushing for me to do that more often.”

“I didn’t mean that I wanted you to feel yourself up in the car, Ryan, Jesus Christ.”

Ryan squeezes himself again through his jeans, and makes another breathy noise. He’s rewarded by the very obvious way Shane swallows and pointedly Does Not Look at Ryan.

“Maybe I’m not talking about the getting comfortable advice anymore.”

Shane’s brows furrow and his mouth slants down, and Ryan watches him try to remember while he grinds his palm down again. It feels so fucking good, better than he ever remembered jerking himself off could feel, and he’s desperate to unzip his jeans and push his hand inside of his briefs. But he stops himself from jumping ahead, knowing that stringing the show out and torturing Shane will be worth it in the end.

“Oh my fucking fuck,” Shane finally snaps, fingers flexing against the wheel again. “Are you talking about the adventure stuff? Ryan, are you fifteen?”

“I don’t see why you’re getting so upset,” Ryan laughs, and then groans, still nice and soft. “This hits both of our marks, baby. Helps us both out.”

“Would you care to enlighten me on how this mutually benefits us in our adventurous journeys?”

Ryan makes a noise like he’s thinking, when all he’s really doing is grinding up into his hand over and over again, the best and worst kind of friction.

“You want to live on the edge, and I want to be in control of the situation. Win-win, in my humble opinion.”

“We could have just gone scuba diving,” Shane says, voice thickening the way it does when he wants to fuck Ryan silly. “Can you please stop touching your dick and wait until we get home? Where there’s no one around to watch you whack it except for me? We’ve only got, like, twenty minutes left.”

“That’s so much time though.” Ryan whines. “C’mon, I thought you said you wanted to see all the wonders of the world.”

“I meant the fucking Mid-Atlantic Ridge, not your come getting onto the upholstery.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” Ryan sing-songs, and then, when Shane stops to take in a deep breath, Ryan finally moves his hand off of the front of his jeans and very clearly unzips them.

Shane swears under his breath and jerkily changes lanes, and Ryan takes that as his invitation to wiggle around until his jeans and briefs are to his mid-thigh and his dick it out and proud for all to see. It feels fucking fantastic to have it out of the confinement of his jeans, and Ryan groans with all the satisfaction of someone eating for the first time in days. He doesn’t waste any more time and starts to slowly jerk himself off, fingers dragging from base to tip and back down. The slide is really dry, even with the obscene amount of precome Ryan has produced getting himself worked up, but he doesn’t rush it. He lets his hand do what it wants, occasionally stopping to press right underneath the head or to pass his thumb over the slit.

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” Shane hisses, once he catches sight of Ryan’s very exposed cock and his hand moving over it. “Actually, I’ll probably kill both of us, since you’re going to make me crash the fucking car.”

“Then don’t get distracted,” Ryan supplies helpfully.

“Easy for you to fucking say, Voyeur Express.”

“You brought this upon yourself.” Ryan tells him, and moans when he twists his wrist a certain way. It’s been a long time since he just sat down and jerked himself off, paid attention to what he was looking for within himself. Shane can joke about Ryan’s libido all he wants, but Shane is still a teenage boy from his dick to his soul, and he’s usually just as ready to get off with Ryan as Ryan is with him. “This happens every time you try to challenge me and my determination to prove you wrong.”

“This isn’t ghosts and demons, Ryan- we’re on the fucking _freeway-”_

Ryan makes another high-pitched noise at the reminder. “Does that get you going? Knowing that anyone could pass by us and see me touching myself?”

Shane says nothing, his breathing going sharp and fast.

Ryan continues, speeding up just a little. “Anyone could pass by us and see me like this. See me getting off in front of you. They’d know right away that it was just for you, that I’m only doing this for you.”

“Ryan Bergara,” Shane groans, his voice creaking like an old wooden house. He’s having a hard time keeping his eyes on the road, often drifting over into the other lane because he’s too desperate to get a good look at Ryan.

Ryan giggles, letting a whimper leak into the end of it, and at the same time, they pass through a bridge that’s lit up inside. The inside of the car is suddenly thrown into a pale, yellow light, and Ryan can see that Shane is hard enough in his jeans that it’s probably hurting him. Ryan knew that he was affecting Shane, but seeing it, physical proof seen by his own two eyes, makes Ryan’s gut burble and his toes curl against the windshield.

He waits until they’re out of the tunnel to move onto the next stage. He remembers that, at some point, he stashed a small bottle of lube in the car after a particular night involving some guy hitting on Ryan at a bar and Shane getting so jealous that he didn’t even let them drive home before he fucked Ryan, fucked him rough and hard right in the passenger seat of this very car. They had made due with a lube packet Ryan kept in his wallet for emergency purposes, and after that, Ryan knew he needed to be better prepared. He thanks his past self for that correct stroke of judgement, and while Shane is taking pregnant-woman-in-labor breaths to calm down, Ryan is digging around in the side of the door for the lube. When he finds it, he makes a small, pleased noise and squirts a generous amount into the palm of his right hand. The lube goes back into the side of the car, and then Ryan gets to work.

The wet noises his hand makes are obscene, and filthy, and they make Ryan even harder, hearing them amplified in the confinement of the car. Shane gasps when he hears Ryan’s lubed-up hand start to move over the length of his dick, and Ryan finally turns his head so that his cheek is pressed against the headrest and his eyes are on nothing but Shane. Shane looks like he’s seconds away from pulling over and fucking Ryan right on the side of the road, and it makes Ryan’s gut flip over.

“Feels so good,” Ryan tells him, another whimper escaping his mouth. Good doesn’t even begin to describe how he feels right now- he feels like he’s sparking at the edges, like a livewire, like he’s already teetering right on the edge. The way he’s sitting lets him feel the rumble of their car and the rumble of the other cars driving around them, and it goes right to his dick. “Feels so fucking good, Shane.”

“Please,” Shane whines, hands going dangerously white on the wheel, but he doesn’t finish his thought. _Please stop_ or _please don’t stop._

Ryan lets his eyes rake shamelessly over Shane’s profile, from his crazy, unruly hair, to his liquid, amber eyes, whether they’re focused on the road or on Ryan, to his rapidly falling and rising chest, to his clenched hands, and down to where his dick is trying its best to break free of Shane’s jeans. Ryan’s hand speeds up, and it feels like he’s going to come apart at the seams at every joint in his body. His hips jerk up into the tight circle of his hand, like he can’t help himself, and he moans sweetly.

One of Shane’s hands shoots off of the wheel, as though he’s been burned, and Ryan thinks that Shane is going to try to touch him, or at least put a hand over Ryan’s loud, panting mouth, but instead it goes right into his lap. Ryan barely lets Shane adjust himself, barely lets Shane let out a relieved groan, before he says with a force he didn’t know he possessed:

“Keep both hands on the wheel.”

Shane’s so stunned that he puts his hand back without even noticing. After a few seconds of staring moonily between the road and Ryan, he comes back to himself.

“What the fuck? How come you get to fucking jerk off in front of me and I can’t even take the edge off? I’m not exactly calm and collected right now, Ryan.”

“Because I said so,” Ryan says easily, twisting his wrist sharply. It forces another high, needy moan out of his throat, and Shane groans along with him, hands beating down against the steering wheel. “You’re the one who wanted some adventure in your life, so you get to see it through.”

“Fuck you-”

“If you move your hand off of the wheel again before I’m done,” Ryan continues, thumb digging wonderfully into the sensitive spot underneath the head, “I’m not going to let you fuck me for a week.”

Shane’s mouth presses down into a very fine, thin line, and Ryan would laugh if he wasn't in danger of coming.

“That’s the deal. You’re gonna sit there and listen to me get myself off and run my big fucking mouth, and then you get to come later. If you touch yourself again, or try to touch me before I come, then you don’t get to fuck me for a week.”

Shane swallows and then swallows again, and when he speaks, his voice sounds deep enough to move heaven and hell alike. Ryan chokes down a particularly filthy moan at the sound of it and runs his thumb over the head again.

“So if I’m good, I get to fuck you when we get home?”

Ryan can’t help it- he whines at the way the question is phrased, at the thought of calling Shane good, calling him a _good boy,_ and saves the rest of that thought for a rainy day.

“If you’re good, you can fuck me whenever and wherever.”

There’s a moment of silence, broken only by the sound of the music still playing and the squelching sounds that Ryan’s hand makes as he continues to jerk himself off. After another harried lane change, and Shane swearing a little, he jerks his head up and down in a rough version of a nod.

“Good,” Ryan sighs, grinning sweetly over at Shane.

He twists his wrist again and doesn’t try to muffle the moan that follows after, and the way that Shane’s big, big hands flex and clench down onto the wheel makes his head spin. He’s never had this much power over Shane before in the entire time they’ve known each other, and it feels heady, like he’s going right into the eye of that storm Shane has been so desperate to find. It feels so goddamn fantastic to see Shane seconds away from unravelling, holding onto his sanity by his teeth, and knowing that Ryan is the one who put him there.

Ryan notes the way that the longer he jerks himself off, the higher the needle on the speedometer climbs and the tighter Shane’s muscles coil. He’s paying attention to the road as best as he can since Ryan told him he wasn’t allowed to take his hands off of the wheel, but he’s also spending more time than not looking over at Ryan, at his open, panting mouth and where his hand is moving steadily over his cock. Someone behind them honks, clearly annoyed with the way Shane keeps drifting out of his lane, and it makes Ryan keen, makes him fuck up into his fist and breathe out: “I hope they see me,” over the sound of their engine revving.

“You’re the fucking worst.” Shane growls in response. The way the chords in his neck stand out and the way his hips are stuttering up against nothing but air belie the statement. “I can’t believe you’re doing this in public, you animal.”

“You’re- _oh, hmm-_ you’re clearly enjoying it, though. I think it- I think it hits all of your adventure marks, buddy.”

“Don’t call me buddy when you’re jerking yourself off in front of me.”

Ryan huffs out a laugh. “Do you want me to call you something else?”

The way Shane’s face goes from pinched to stunned almost makes Ryan laugh again, but the implications behind his expression, the way his mouth falls open and the way his eyes are darting around like he can’t believe Ryan said that out loud, makes his stomach coil up dangerously.

“Oh, I see,” Ryan practically purrs the sentence out, shifting around in his seat. “What’s your favorite, then? Sir? Master? D-”

“If you finish that fucking sentence, I’m going to push you out of the car, freeway or no.”

That follows the _good boy_ information right into Ryan’s rainy day folder, but he doesn’t finish his sentence. He just laughs again and thinks about it really, really hard about in his head. He watches the way Shane licks his lips, over and over again, like it’s helping him to not think about how hard he is and how he can’t take care of it. He watches the way Shane’s hips move, the way he’s squirming, searching for something to take the edge off and growing more and more impatient the longer he can’t find it. He watches the way Shane’s eyes will sometimes meet his, not his bare chest or his dick, and squeezes himself at the sight of all the amber in his boyfriend’s eyes being swallowed up by black black black.

Ryan moans again, over the sound of his own harsh breathing and the little whines he releases when he does something that his dick really supports. They pass by another bright street lamp at the same time, and Ryan practically salivates when he sees Shane’s dick twitch in his jeans. He moves without even thinking about it, reaches over and trails a finger across where Shane’s cock is pressing right up against his zipper.

“ _Fuck,”_ Shane barks, hips snapping up against Ryan’s hand. “You- you fucking _asshole-_ why do _you_ get to touch me?”

“Because I can,” Ryan answers simply, and then squeezes Shane’s dick at the same time that he squeezes his own. Shane swears again and grinds up against Ryan’s palm, and Ryan can feel how every single inch of his body is shaking from the effort of not taking his hands off of the wheel. “You’re really desperate for it, huh?”

Shane glares over at him, and almost throws them into the side of a truck. “Kettle, meet pot.”

Ryan narrows his eyes at Shane, suddenly a little annoyed with how he’s acting. His end goal was to make Shane desperate, to make him beg and make him needy to the nines, but now he’s just being a dickhead. So, Ryan decides to take another page out of Shane’s book, and raises the stakes.

He removes his hand from the front of Shane’s jeans and ignores the shrill, angry noise he makes in response. He moves his hand until it’s wrapped around Shane’s right wrist, the arm closest to him, and gives it a small tug.

“What are you doing now?” Shane asks, voice deeper than Ryan has maybe ever heard it before.

“What I want to do,” Ryan says simply, and gives Shane’s arm another tug. “Let me see it.”

“What happened to keeping both hands on the wheel?”

Ryan shrugs, and grins when Shane lets go of the wheel with his right hand. “That’s the most exciting part about going on an adventure, right? Going with the flow, letting plans change, just hanging on for the ride-”

Shane groans when Ryan stops talking to lick a line from his fingertips to where his pulse is hammering away, tongue pressing down on it. “Not- _goddammit,_ Ryan- not to sound like Spock, but I-I’m not sure that this qualifies.”

Ryan pouts, tells him: “Says you,” and then sucks Shane’s index and middle fingers into his wet, hot mouth.

They basically change lanes without Shane turning his blinker on, and when Shane realizes that it’s an exit only lane, he curses and speeds up so that he can get back over and away from the people that have been behind them for a while. Ryan giggles around his fingers and then starts to suck on them in earnest, tongue curling around the pads and sliding down to the webbing between them.

“You are the worst person I’ve ever met,” Shane groans, left hand tightening as much as it can on the wheel. “What the fuck.”

“Tell that to your dick,” Ryan says around his fingers, and then playfully bites the top of his index finger before licking over it again.

Ryan wishes that he could see himself, in some kind of weird, self-debauched way. He wants to see what he looks like from someone else’s perspective, like a person driving down the freeway in their own car. From _Shane’s_ perspective. He wants to know just how good he looks, everything from his throat to his thighs exposed, one hand around his wet, leaking dick and the other one around his boyfriend’s wrist, two of his long, long fingers shoved into Ryan’s mouth.

When another truck speeds past them, their horn blaring and their lights so, so fucking bright, Ryan feels the hot ball in the pit of his stomach tighten, and he knows that he’s close, that he’s going to come in just a few more pulls of his hand. He glances down the long line of Shane’s arm, and follows it up to his flushed, desperate face (the one Ryan’s been waiting for since he started this game) and decides that it’s all or nothing. He pulls Shane’s fingers out of his mouth with a lewd, wet _pop_ that makes a beautiful, wrecked noise crawl right out of Shane’s throat, and then he takes Shane’s hand and curls it over his dick.

 _“Oh my God,”_ Shane practically sobs the words out, hand tightening around Ryan on reflex. “Holy _shit,_ Ryan-”

Ryan whines loudly, and closes his right hand around Shane’s. He uses his left to cling onto Shane’s jacket, and then starts to fuck up into the tight ring of their hands. His hand is still slippery with a combination of precome and lube, and it makes a mess all over Shane’s fingers and his wrist when he tries to get a good grip on him, and it’s disgusting and filthy and so so fucking good. The sound of his cock sliding wetly through both of their hands makes Ryan’s head spin. Shane doesn’t move his hand from the position Ryan put it in, even though Ryan knows that he’s _dying to,_ and his unwavering obedience makes the hot ball unravel and burst.

 _“Shane, Shane, Shane-”_ Ryan chants his name as his orgasm builds and crashes over him, and then he moans obscenely as he begins to come. It spurts out all over his bare chest and stomach, and Ryan squirms and continues to fuck up into the ring of their hands until it’s over. When he’s done, he slumps back into the seat and releases a long breath, watching the last of the fireworks go off behind his eyes. He feels like he’s skydiving, like he’s floating above the Earth and gently drifting down towards the center of it. He hasn’t come this hard in weeks, and the force of it leaves him boneless and tingly all over.

He feels Shane’s hand slip off of his softening cock, and when he cracks his eyes open, he sees that both hands are back on the wheel, whiter than ever and seconds away from ripping the steering wheel right out of the dashboard.

“That was _amazing,”_ Ryan says, all breathy and wonderstruck. He glances down at himself, at the come dripping down his front and the lube he got all over his thighs and hips, and laughs. “God, I made such a fucking mess.”

Shane makes a noise that sounds a lot like a car being crushed, and he refuses to look at Ryan. Ryan thinks, for a split second, that he’s well and truly pissed Shane off, but then Shane asks him: “Are you done coming?”

Ryan tilts his head, cheek pressed against the headrest again. “Yeah?”

Shane nods, like it’s the most casual thing that they’ve ever done, and then he throws his blinker on. Ryan watches as he cuts across three different lanes of traffic, only gets out: “Shane, be _careful-”_ before Shane is careening off of the nearest exit, much to the annoyance of all the people behind them. A handful of people honk at them, but Shane doesn’t look away from the exit, doesn’t look anywhere but in front of him.

It’s all over in about twenty seconds. Shane gets off of the exit, looks around at the stop light they come up to, and then goes speeding down the road. Ryan watches in a bemused silence as Shane takes them to a Target parking lot, one that’s surprisingly empty, even for the late hour and for it being in California, and parks them in the darkest and most deserted corner.

As soon as the car is in park, Shane starts unbuttoning his jeans and tells Ryan: “Get in the back seat.”

Ryan blinks, and then yells: “You’re not gonna fuck me in the parking lot of Target!”

Shane yells back: “You just jerked off in front of an entire freeway of people! How is that different!”

“Because they would have only seen me for a few seconds and then never again! If we get caught here, we’ll be fucking _arrested!”_

Shane reaches out and curls a hand into Ryan’s disheveled hair. He uses the hold to yank Ryan closer to him, and Ryan goes, still pliant and fucked-out. He’s not going to admit it right now, since he’s still trying to have some sort of control over Shane, but he _loves_ how strong Shane is under all of his stupid Midwestern hipster clothes, _loves_ how strong Shane is under his disguise of tall, white geek, and how he uses that strength to make Ryan do what he wants. To _comply._

“That was part of the agreement,” Shane whispers, breath hot and sweet against Ryan’s ear. “You said that, if I didn’t disobey you until you came, that I would get to fuck you wherever and whenever. This is a where and a when.”

Ryan’s breath catches in his throat, and even though he just came, his dick twitches at the low growl in Shane’s voice, at the thinly veiled impatience.

“So-” Shane moves his hand until it’s cupped around Ryan’s neck, thumb forcing him to keep his head tilted back and his eyes locked on his boyfriend. It makes Ryan honest-to-fuck gulp, and Shane presses down on the bulge of his throat. His eyes look molten in the barely-there lighting. “Get. In. The. Fucking. Back. Seat.”

Ryan whimpers and says, “Okay,” as well as he can around Shane’s hand and the hitch in his breath, and then he’s scrambling to find the door handle.

“Don’t forget the lube,” Shane tells him, still in that smoky, commanding voice.

Ryan nods and paws around the side of the door until he finds the lube again, and then he’s out of the car, jeans still around his thighs and come going cold and tacky when it meets the night air. He fumbles with the back passenger door and when it’s open, he crawls inside as best as he can with his jeans the way they are. Shane gets his door open, but doesn’t come all the way inside, just props a knee up on the seat, ducks his head down, and says: “Turn around and hold onto something.”

Ryan puts the lube into the back seat cup holder and does as he’s told; he flips over so that he’s face-to-face with the window and kneeling on the seat, bared ass right in Shane’s face. He props his right arm up on the windowsill, and then curls his left around his front seat headrest, until his entire upper body is suspended above the seat and his lower body is bowed and inviting.

Ryan hears Shane groan again, and then feels Shane climb into the back seat with him, knee sliding right next to his own. He startles when he feels Shane reach out and grab his ass, hands squeezing both of his cheeks and then pulling them apart. Ryan whines, pushing back into his touch, and Shane squeezes again.

“You’re a fucking menace,” Shane hisses, and then lets go of his ass. Ryan hears him pull the lube out of the cupholder, and presses his forehead against the window when he hears the snick of the cap being opened. “Always gotta try and get me going.”

“It worked out well for you this time, didn’t it?” Ryan asks, laughing a little. The laugh immediately turns into a moan when he feels one of Shane’s long, beautiful, slicked-up fingers sink into him, and he can’t help but push back onto it. “Christ, Shane-”

“Oh boy, did it,” Shane grits out, and doesn’t wait very long to put a second finger in. “Only you would take my desire to see the world in all of its undiscovered, wide-open glory and turn it into something about your dick and your ass.”

“Your dick, too, big guy.”

Shane growls again and doesn’t say anything, just redoubles his efforts to finger Ryan open until he’s nice and loose. For a minute, there’s only the sounds of Shane’s fingers squelching wetly inside of Ryan, and his harsh, uncontrolled breathing, and Ryan’s varying sounds of pleasure as Shane works him open. Shane is doing it more to prepare Ryan than to pleasure him, but he still grazes Ryan’s prostate from time to time, and it makes Ryan moan sharply and shove back against him.

Shane doesn’t ask if he’s ready, when he decides to move on. One second, his fingers are reaching and twisting and scissoring, and the next Ryan hears the sound of the lube opening again and the familiar sound of Shane unzipping his jeans and slicking himself up. His arms and legs are shaking, and his knees are aching from the awkward angle his body is being bent at, but the only thing that Ryan feels right now is light-headed and so hard that he can barely stand it. Through the fogging of the window, Ryan can vaguely make out people walking in and out of Target, and wonders if any of them can see them, can see him on his knees, waiting for Shane to fuck him.

When Ryan feels the blunt head of Shane’s dick pressing against him, but doesn’t feel Shane climb further into the car, he turns his head around to look at him. It’s the first time he’s looked at Shane since getting into the back seat, and Ryan groans a little at the sight of him: hair a fucking mess, a light sweat on his forehead and at the base of his throat, one hand curled around his cock and the other one pulling Ryan’s cheeks apart. His face looks hot and dangerous, and Ryan feels another bead of precome well up and slide down the head of his dick.

“You’re- you’re not gonna close the door?”

Shane looks at Ryan like he’s a fucking idiot. “I can’t fit in there with you. I can barely fit into your tight little ass at this angle.”

He pushes in right after he says this, and Ryan keens, head dropping back onto his forearm. It feels so good, he feels so full and so fucking filthy, knowing that Shane can see him like this, and so could anyone else, if they got close enough. Shane grunts as he starts to slide in, until his hips meet Ryan’s ass, and then he says:

“I wouldn’t close the door even if I could. I’m gonna fuck you nice and good with the door wide open, so everyone can see how well you take my cock. Consider it a continuation of your share of adventure, since you had no problem jerking off on a freeway _full_ of people.”

Shane says ‘adventure’ in the most sarcastic way that he possibly can, but it falls on deaf ears. Ryan is too caught up in the way Shane said _I’m gonna fuck you nice and good with the door wide open, so everyone can see how well you take my cock._ They’ve dabbled in dirty talk before (how could they _not,_ talking to each other with the purpose of ruffling each other’s feathers is their specialty) but Shane has _never_ talked to Ryan like this, like he’s disgusting, like he’s a _slut._ It makes another whine bubble up and spill out of Ryan’s mouth, and makes him push back against Shane’s cock.

“Do I look good, at least?” Ryan asks him, clawing at any remaining shreds of control. He just wants to hear how much he affected Shane, how hard he got watching and listening to Ryan jerk off in the car. How hard he is from fingering Ryan in the back seat of their car in a public parking lot, and how hard he is from seeing how much Ryan likes it.

Shane groans and begins to thrust steadily into Ryan, both hands digging into his hips. “Yeah, Ryan, you look good. You look fucking _amazing.”_

Ryan moves his head so that it’s pressed against the back of the passenger seat, and then moves his right hand until it’s curled around his dick again. There’s still some lube on it, and it makes the slide of his hand feel incredible.

“Imagine if someone saw me like this,” Ryan blurts out, because he can’t make himself stop talking or thinking about it. He presses his thumb right into the sensitive spot under the head of his cock and sees sparks. “Imagine if someone saw me with come and lube all over myself, and saw me touching myself while you’re fucking me.”

Shane snarls and fucks as deeply and harshly into Ryan as he can. It knocks Ryan’s head against the door and makes his knees scrape across the seat, and Ryan fucking loves it, loves feeling like some cheap, easy slut, loves knowing that it gets Shane all riled up and makes him fuck Ryan like he’s trying to break him in half.

Ryan moans, high and loud and unashamed, and his hand speeds up on his throbbing dick. “They’d know I was desperate for it.”

“They’d know that you take it like you were fucking born to,” Shane tells him, trying to sound condescending, but the way he says it just makes Ryan’s head spin more. “That you couldn’t even wait until we got home for me to fuck you.”

Ryan doesn’t point out the fact that Shane is the one who stopped and told Ryan with no room for argument that they were going to have sex in this Target parking lot. Now that they’re in the middle of it, in the middle of some fantasy they apparently both share but never discussed out loud, Ryan finds it easy to believe that he’s the one who wanted Shane to fuck him in public all along. He lets Shane know this by making another crude, all-around pornographic noise and writhing back against his cock.

And then he tells Shane, with his breath being punched out of his throat in short, high bursts, and the wet noises of him jerking off mixing in with the wet noises of Shane fucking him filling the car up to the brim:

“They’d know it was just for you.” He says it like he did on the freeway, when he first started this game. “They’d know that I only take it like this for you, that you’re the only one who makes me so desperate for cock that we have to pull over and fuck in the car, where anyone could see us-”

Shane slams into Ryan so harshly that the car starts to rock back and forth on its wheels like he’s actually all the way in the car, groaning openly and tightening his grip on Ryan’s sides so hard that there’s no way he won’t leave bruises. The thought of Shane leaving bruises on him, a lasting reminder of what they’ve done tonight, makes Ryan whimper out: “ _Shane-_ I’m gonna _come-”_ and then he does, spilling over his already-soiled hand and onto the back seat.

Ryan clenches down onto Shake’s cock when he comes, shaking and frantically chasing after all the lights that go off in his head and throughout his body. It feels even better the second time, with Shane filling him all the way up and his big hands nearly circling around Ryan’s entire waist and his hot, damp breath heaving out against the small of Ryan’s back. Ryan thinks he might be crying a little bit with how good it feels, and he knows he’s making incoherent noises against the back of the seat, but doesn't really know what he’s saying. All he knows is that he’s babbling out Shane’s name around a few swear words and some good ol’ taking the Lord’s name in vain.  

Shane keeps going, chasing after his own orgasm, and Ryan pries his hand off of the headrest to reach back and curl his fingers around one of Shane’s wrists. All it takes is this, Ryan whining from the beginnings of overstimulation, and him gritting out one more coherent: _“Shane,”_ for Shane to unravel. Ryan moans at the same time Shane does when he orgasms, slamming his cock into Ryan’s ass one last time as deep as he possibly can. Ryan can feel the hot spurts of his come filling him up, and it makes his heart stutter, makes him clench down again. Shane is panting when he finishes, hands still clenched around Ryan’s hips and his forehead pressed against the dip in Ryan’s spine. Ryan is vaguely aware of the fact that they’re both trembling, and that he’s seconds away from collapsing against the back seat, and he tries to collect himself.

After they sit there for a few moments and catch their breath, Shane heaves himself up and releases his tight hold on Ryan’s hips. He sucks in another sharp breath when he sees what Ryan bets are the beginnings of bruises, and he leans down to kiss them, thumbs soothing over Ryan’s ribs.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be that rough,” Shane tells him, kissing his way over to Ryan’s other side. He taps Ryan in a warning of sorts, and then he pulls out; Ryan tries not to make it obvious that he loves the way Shane’s come immediately begins to spill out of his hole, lets it trickle out and down the back of his thigh and resists to urge to scoop it up and push it all back in. Shane helps Ryan to flip over and stretch out across the back seat, to give his knees a break, and Ryan groans appreciatively at the change. Shane’s eyes openly work their way up and down Ryan’s disheveled, come-and-lube-streaked body, and if Ryan hadn’t already come twice in twenty minutes, his dick would be trying again. “Christ, you’re a fucking mess, baby.”

Ryan grins, all sorts of self-satisfied. “It’s okay. Loved every second of it.”

Shane laughs, a little disbelieving and a lot aroused. “I can tell.”

They sit there for a few minutes and come back down, breathing each other in. Ryan thinks that they’re pretty fucking lucky that no one saw them, and that if they did, they kept walking and didn’t call the police.

He thinks that, at a future time and date, he’d like to try something like this again. The open, hungry look on Shane’s face tells him that Shane agrees.

Eventually, Ryan stretches out again, groans at the feeling of his joints shifting and popping, and then reaches down to shimmy his jeans back up. Shane takes this as the go-ahead to get dressed again, and they button up their jeans, fix their shirts, and try to push down their hair. Ryan knows that he should be grossed out by all of the come and lube stuck to and leaking out of him still, but he loves that it still makes him feel like some cheap, easy slut who talked his boyfriend into a quick fuck out in public because he couldn’t wait until they got home.

When Shane climbs back into the driver’s seat, looking as equally messed up and fucked out as Ryan, Ryan laughs. Shane starts laughing, too, like he can’t believe that they just fucked in the parking lot of Target because Ryan pushed his buttons a little too hard.

When they stop laughing enough for Ryan to catch his breath, he sighs, and tells Shane: “So, I think that was a good start to us being… _adventurous.”_

Shane turns to look at him, eyes glittering and mouth a distracting shade of red. Ryan suddenly realizes that they never even kissed, too frantic to have sex and get what they could out of each other, and he remedies it by tucking a finger into the front of Shane’s shirt. He pulls Shane across the middle console and kisses him deeply, trying to explain with his lips and tongue that he really liked their little experiment, and he _really_ liked Shane treating him like a ragdoll.

Shane tells him that he liked it, too, in the hot slide of his tongue against Ryan’s and the way one of his hands curls back into Ryan’s hair and the other one reaches down to squeeze his thigh.

Maybe Ryan can work his way up to round three, after all.  

When they break apart, Shane is smiling, but it’s more predatorial than sweet. It makes Ryan’s gut lurch and his hand clench against the collar of Shane’s shirt.

“Mmm, I agree,” Shane says. He traces the back of his knuckles over the front of Ryan’s jeans, and Ryan jerks up against them, still sensitive. Shane’s eyes go dark again at the noise he makes. “But if you think that I’m going to let you get away with coming twice when I’ve only come once tonight, then you’re sorely mistaken, Bergara.”

Ryan’s breath audibly hitches, and Shane smirks, giving Ryan’s hair a light but controlling tug.

“Are we going to wait until we get home this time?” Ryan asks, trying his absolute best to still be a cheeky asshole.

Shane lets his eyes roam over Ryan’s face, considering, and then he nods. He pulls his hand out of Ryan’s hair and away from his thigh, and turns back to the wheel so that he can put the car (they never even _turned it off,_ Jesus fucking Christ) in drive. Ryan watches him move, entranced, unable to look away, waiting to see if Shane will give him a hint.

Shane rewards him by looking back over, once they’re creeping through the parking lot. He looks powerful, and in complete control, and Ryan thinks he’d do just about anything Shane asked him at this point, whether it’s sucking Shane off in the car or fucking bungee jumping.

“Yeah, we’re gonna go home first,” Shane tells him, signalling to head back towards the freeway. “And then, since you thought it was so goddamn hilarious to fuck with me and make me wait, I’m gonna fuck you nice and slow, until you cry, and then I’m gonna do it all over again, and then maybe I’ll let you come.”

Ryan stares at him in shock, and Shane laughs before changing lanes to get onto the freeway again. Once they’re on, and going at least eighty- the only sign that Shane isn’t completely calm and collected like he’s pretending to be- he makes sure to tell Ryan:

“And if you touch yourself before I come again, I won’t fuck you for a week.”

**Author's Note:**

> *John Mulaney voice* He was like: "No, no proof of purchase!" and then he ran off into the night


End file.
